Unseen
by ThePonderosa
Summary: She will never been the same again. She can never be equal. She can never fight. But Skye is determined to defy nature itself. Will the knights help her, or can they make her see that there will be no return?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"How will I fight?"

"How will you fight?"

"I don't know."

I sit on the cold, hard ground, wondering how I got myself into this situation.

"I don't like it," I say, feeling revolted when I think of it.

He reaches over and takes my hand. "I know."

"Well I don't!" I jerk my hand away. "I don't know it! I won't believe it! I _refuse_…"

"Skye…"

"Don't. Don't try to comfort me. I won't tolerate it. I'm—I'm fine."

He refuses to be thwarted. "Skye, I know I cannot do this."

"I can," I insist stubbornly. "I can. I just…" My voice trails off. "I just need to try."

"No. I will fail. I can't let you."

"But don't I see?" My voice turns pleading. "I can't. I _can't. _I can't just give up."

"It's not giving up, it's accepting. Surviving. Fighting in another sense."

"No, no it's not." I am shaking my head. I feel the hot tears running down my cheeks. But I can't see them. I never will again.

I wrap my arms around my body and rock back and forth. He touches my elbow, but I lash out. My hand gropes for a minute before it finds him and pushes him away.

"See. You cannot even find me. You certainly cannot defend yourself."

I scramble to my feet and scream at him.

"Leave me alone!"

I try to walk off, but my feet hit something and I am thrown to the ground. The grass feels prickly through the thin material of my gown and I begin to weep in earnest. My shoulders heave with sobs. I hear him behind me. He hesitates, not sure what to do. I have pushed him away so many times now.

"Go away." I bite my lip. "I want to be alone."

"But what if— "

He should know better than to protest by now.

"GO!" I shriek, kicking madly at his voice.

By sheer luck I hit him and I sense he stumbles back. My strength has not vanished, even if my eyesight has.

"Go away," I begin to cry again. "Leave me alone."

I hear him slinking off. I imagine for a minute that he is a dog. A horrible hairy beast. His bushy tail tucked between his legs.

I roll over and bury my face in my arms. I can hear a bumblebee buzzing near my ear. I remember there are flowers around the pool. Yellow flowers. And purple and blue ones. I don't even know their names.

I try to remember what bumblebees look like. But through my fears, I can only recall a blurry visage. Yellow. Stripes. A fat clumsy body. Yes. That's all there is to bumblebees. Right?

I lay still, trying to forget, forbidding myself to think. The sun warms my back, my legs, my bare feet. I imagine it is turning my hair golden. People don't believe hair can be gold. But mine is. I remember that much.

I sit up and shake my head, letting the long wavy tresses fall over my shoulders. I turn my head west. I feel the sunlight touch my cheeks. I imagine I can see the golden rays through the black film God drew over my vision.

I can suddenly see them again. Clear and vibrant as a summer evening. The knights. Riding magnificent horses. Horses whose manes stream into purple clouds that the dying sun has painted.

It was just a memory. A visage. But they are all I can see anymore.

So I have never forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Okay, Bruckheimer owns his version of King Arthur. And I own mine. But I admit, I was clearly influenced by the movie. So…kill me. :)**

_Author's Note: This story shouldn't be too long. It just covers Skye's past and journey to Hadrian's wall.

* * *

_

**Chapter One**

Grandfather used to tell me I could do anything I set my mind to. After I lost my sight, he took to quoting scripture every time I gritted my teeth and did the impossible.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Thought outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all."

But Grandfather's favorite part was the last verse. "So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

For what is unseen…

Yeah.

* * *

Cadfael left. He left early one morning, and never told me. Father said he'd left because he was angry. He was angry at God for withdrawing, from me, the greatest revelation He'd granted humankind. Father said Cadfael was traveling to Rome, seeking some cure for me. But I know he just couldn't bear to be around me anymore. The knowledge that he was partly responsible for my blindness wore on him day by day. 

Maybe he felt better running, pretending to himself that it was going to mend everything.

Sure it would.

* * *

I did learn to fight, though. Cadfael may have not believed in me, but I knew my Grandfather did. He patiently helped me to relearn all the techniques that had grown rusty over the many months of rehabilitation. He taught me to use the bow—and be able to hit my target by just listening. Because I wouldn't be able to see an opponent's moves, we mostly stuck to things I could do on horseback and with a bow. But in case I ever got "grounded" as my Father called it, Grandfather taught me to fight with not one, not two, but three knives. I got to the point if I could throw it, shoot it, or punch it, I could kill it. 

But of course, my skills were never tested. And my abilities were never needed. That was made clear from the beginning.

So things really hadn't changed after all.

* * *

Everyone told me Marion was ugly. A mix between a shepherd and some mangy wild dog that had come up out of the swamplands. The portrayal always reminded me of Moses. Coming up out of Egypt. Out of slavery. Out of bondage. 

I liked to imagine Marion was a wolf. He was gray, people said, and I could certainly feel for myself that he was tall and broad and muscular. His hair was coarse and often stood up on end. Particularly on dark, rainy days. Then it would frequently be accompanied by a growl or two. I never did find out what he rumbled at, but my faithful mare, Niwliog, never seemed upset, so I kept cool myself.

* * *

After my grandfather died, I took over watching his herd of sheep. I guess nobody ever considered me able to do or be anything above a shepherdess. 

Sheep are stupid creatures. Wherever one goes, the others will follow. Marion kept them together and I directed them to the best pastures. I got to know the land by the hills. The largest one was close to our village. Farther on, the hills smoothed out and began to feel the same. But I never worried about becoming lost, though I couldn't see where I was. Marion always nipped the sheep and herded them after us while Niwliog led the way home.

* * *

_**One year later**_

There was a light mist falling and dampening the sheep's woolly fleeces as Marion, Niwliog and I made our way past the "big hill". The jingling of the bell on the ram's collar sounded on my left and I smiled. Deme was the most well behaved ram I'd ever met. He even let me touch his nose from time to time. And he never charged me.

Marion suddenly let out a low growl and I heard the soft padding of his paws stop. I could sense his hair rising along the ridge of his back. I reached down and touched the handle of my knife for comfort.

Then Niwliog suddenly perked up, coming suddenly to a halt. I turned my head to the side as I listened. I heard Marion dash off to stop the sheep, still growling deep in his throat. I touched Niwliog's shoulder and could feel that her muscles were tense. I frowned. There was something wrong. I pulled out my bow from behind the saddle and listened once more.

Then I heard it. Hoofbeats. They weren't coming fast, rather at a steady clip-clop, clip-clop. As they drew closer, Niwliog exhaled and relaxed a little. I let out a breath of relief. They weren't too threatening then. Even before my blindness, I'd noticed that Niwliog had a keen sense of right and wrong situations. She'd been the one to alert us to the woad that had been trailing us on That Day…

The hoofbeats stopped about ten feet away. I could tell it was more than three riders and my heart started beating faster again.

"What do you want?" I demanded. Such was my most common greeting when anyone approached me nowadays.

"M'lady, we are seeking Dewey of the Eirans. We heard he resides in these parts."

"Why?" It wasn't a question. It was a mandate for an explanation.

"We heard that his people were recently attacked by a large band of woads. We need information in order to prevent another massacre."

So that was what had happened! I felt my cheeks drain of color as I realized that the shouts I'd heard from the village the other day had not been from joyous children. I'd wondered when Niwliog had refused to venture back beyond the big hill. She had balked for nearly two hours before suddenly conceding and heading home. When we'd arrived, it had been so silent. I could tell something was wrong, but nobody would answer my pleas as to what had happened.

I felt my throat constrict as I realized they'd lied to me. Indirectly of course. People never did it on purpose. They just took advantage of my blindness.

"M'lady?"

"I'll take you to him. He's my father."

I felt one of the riders studying me. I couldn't tell which one, but my strong sixth sense provided me with the opportunity to throw a glare in that direction.

"What are you looking at?"

He said nothing, but I could tell he'd turned his gaze.

I kicked Niwliog into a gallop as we headed toward my village. I couldn't smother a smile when I realized the others were hard put to keep up. I could still outride anyone I knew. At least that hadn't changed.

* * *

_Note: Scripture quoted is 2nd Corinthians 4:18_


	3. Chapter 3

**KnightMaiden: Haha, I actually thought about pairing her up with Tristan, but on the other hand, I began to wonder if they wouldn't kill each other first. Lol, guess we'll just have to wait and see. :)**

**Daydream1: Thanks so much for reviewing! For my part, I have always pitied blind people (I happen to personally know a lot of people with eye/vision problems), so I thought it would be kinda neat to write from the pov of a character who doesn't want anyone's pity. :)**

**_Author's Note: Btw, please forgive me…I can be somewhat sporadic about updating—mainly because I have another big project underway at fictionpress as well as a couple other smaller stories on that website. :) If you are interested, I have provided the direct link to "The Last King" on my profile page…you King Arthur fans might see where the "Tarians" in that story are clearly based off the knights in "King Arthur". :)

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_**

**­**

**Chapter Two**

If the village was quiet when I left it, it was even quieter when I returned. I imagined I could feel the dishonesty emitting from the people—my people—like a stench, and it disgusted me. How could they have lied to me? Taking advantage of my blindness was not the way to win my trust. I refused to glance their way as I led the strangers past them.

"Sure is cheerful," one of the riders remarked.

I stiffened, but had to acknowledge the truth of the remark. The villagers were deathly still as the horses plodded up the path to my father's hut. I could scent the dust rising under the shuffling hooves and realized it had not rained for some time. I knew it was a cloudy day, but I couldn't sense any moisture in the air. Pity.

I heard my father and eldest brother emerge from the tent as we halted in front of it. The man leading the riders didn't dismount, but rather positioned his horse so he could easily read their faces. I knew my father would be suspicious of them—any stranger that had yet dared question his clan affairs had gone with no less than a scathing round of verbal abuse. My father was a proud man—proud of his people, proud of his sons, proud of his rule. I had yet to fathom why he was proud of me. Perhaps it was because of my fierce fighting spirit. Cadfael used to say it encompassed everything our people lived and survived for.

I stopped. I hadn't thought of Cadfael in a long time. It still hurt in a strange way to think of him, and the way he'd left like he did. I had been angry with him at first, yes, but I never blamed him directly for my blindness. Even in my heart.

"I am Arthur Castus," the leader was saying, matter-a-factly, like he'd said it a million times before. I guessed he probably had. "And these are the Sarmatian knights."

I stiffened, wishing desperately—suddenly—that I could see again. Just for a moment!

I remembered the knights I'd seen before. Two years ago. I could still envision each of their faces plainly. Even when everything else grew dim and blurred in my memory.

"So?" My father said. I could imagine him squinting up at Arthur and I had to smother a smile. That sounded like my father. Or myself for that matter.

"My scout tells me your village was recently attacked by a large band of woads."

My father said nothing, but I could sense him glancing my way. He purposefully had kept this information from me. I retained my stoic expression.

But I guess he must've nodded, because Arthur pressed for more information.

"You are their fellow Britons. Why would they attack you?"

Again, I could sense my father was reluctant to divulge information. It suddenly came clearly to me, though. The reason for my father's secrets, his stubborn silence.

"Because the people have not sided with them against Rome," I said aloud, my voice taking on strength as I continued. "Because we could not reach a negotiation."

I sensed the Arthur and his knights turn in their saddles to look at me.

"You are sure of this?" I sensed the surprise in Arthur's voice.

"Skye," My father spoke up firmly. "Where is your flock?"

"Marion is guarding them," I said stubbornly—hotly. I lifted my chin, bold with anger. "Too bad he cannot watch the village at the same time. At least HE would TELL me if there was an imminent threat."

My father replied with the same heat I had displayed, but I could tell he was already beaten by my words.

"I am only trying to protect you, Skye."

"Why? Because I am your daughter? Because I'm a woman?" I leaned forward. "Because I'm Welsh?"

"Enough!" My father thundered. Niwliog's head jerked up. When he spoke in that voice, the very ground seemed to shake.

I tossed my head and snorted. "Don't pretend you are ashamed of my mother's heritage. YOU married her, not I."

My father lowered his voice. "Skye…"

"Why is she blind?" Arthur voice startled us both.

"How do you mean?" My father asked, his tone defensive.

"She wasn't always blind," a quiet, heavily accented voice spoke up near me.

"How did she become blind?" asked another knight.

They were talking about me. The voices were confusing, so I didn't realize that everyone was looking at me for an answer.

"Skye?"

"It was an accident," I mumbled, lowering my eyes slightly.

"Have you never tried medicine?" Arthur must have been speaking to my father, but I replied before he could say a word.

"Medicine?" I said scornfully. "Oh but of course. I've had a voo-doo woman look at me. She put lots of stinging herbs—poultices of a nasty type—on my eyes. It only made my vision worse. I no longer trust. Not doctors. Not anyone."

I added the last pointedly and was about to whirl Niwliog when Arthur's words stopped me dead in my tracks.

"I think I know a physician who could cure her."


	4. Chapter 4

**Alexis in Wonderland: Thanks for the review! See? I wrote some more:)**

**KnightMaiden: I guess I didn't wonder if Skye and Tristan wouldn't kill each other because he already is so distant and mysterious and she is very rebuffing in many ways. But I don't know…I'll just have to see I guess. :) I never really know how things are going to turn out—even if I AM the author! Lol. ;)

* * *

**

"You are lying!" I spat angrily. "Many times have people pretended to me about such things."

There was a pause before Arthur replied, gently. I knew he was trying to make me feel ashamed of my outburst. I knew it. And it made my blood boil.

"No m'lady. He is renowned for his dexterity. He has saved the eyesight of many at our wall."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I didn't know people were in the habit of going blind," I shot back sarcastically.

"There is an infection going around," Arthur replied quietly. "It takes the eyesight of many. He hasn't been able to treat everyone, but the percentage of patients who recover after seeing this physician is remarkable in comparison to those who go to other doctors or refuse to seek medication at all."

There was a silence. I didn't know what to say. My father and brother were quiet as well. Did they doubt Arthur's word? As I did? Or were they hoping I would ignore his words. No doubt they would miss me if I left. Yeah right. They'd miss my care of the flock. That was all.

"What is his name?" I surprised myself with the question.

Arthur turned in the saddle to look at me.

"Marcus Amandus."

I snorted. "Amandus means lovable. You expect me to trust somebody like that?"

"You are well versed m'lady."

I was taken aback. When I could see, I had read—read the accounts and tales of our people who had journeyed far and wide. Of my mother's land and home. And her family. My mother had been a writer. So far as anyone could be in our closed society.

When I did not reply, Arthur turned back to my father. "If the lady is willing, my friend Marcus would be willing to examine her at Hadrian's Wall."

Again, my father said nothing. I felt my ire rising.

"I promise you no harm will come to her, my knights and I will escort her personally back to the Roman fortress where Marcus waits."

"That is very kind of you." I could picture my father nodding stiffly and motioning toward the skin hut. "Now, Arthur, step inside my tent and we will discuss the woads."

My brother hadn't said a word thus far. Was he really there? I wondered a moment, then decided he was when I heard somebody shift uneasily before opening the flap of the tent for my father and Arthur.

* * *

When the knights left the village three hours later, I was with them. To this day, I don't know how it happened. I guess I was just fed up with the village. Fed up with my father's odd ways and the loneliness and the people. People who lied to me.

But as our journey continued, I began to become frightened. Facing the completely unknown was so much harder than facing the hard truth of that which was only partially revealed. I reached down and touched Niwliog's shoulder. At least I still had her.

After a while, I began to become bored, for the sounds were all the same. The swishing of grass around the horses hooves, the distant cry of a bird, the lonesome wind, and the dip and rise of the hills. The knights, however, must have been becoming as bored as I, for they lapsed into conversation.

"The villagers looked bashed," One with a deep growly voice spoke up.

"A-bashed you mean, Bors. Abashed." Someone corrected from nearby.

"I mean bashed, Gwain, bashed," Bors retorted.

There was a short silence and I envisioned a couple of his companions pulling faces.

"New word, eh?"

"Yep."

Their bantering was so casual and everyday, yet it touched my heart. I decided to ask the question that laid heavy on my mind, though I did not know how to express it.

"Long ago," I said, and I could feel them look at me. "BEFORE I lost my vision..." I stopped. Would they understand?

"Yes?" I recognized the voice as belonging to the one called Gawain. It was prompting, patient, and gave me the strength to continue.

"I was out riding. And I saw some riders. They galloped right past my—my friend and me." I wouldn't try to explain about Cadfael. "Right past. I saw all their faces. And then they went away and up a hill. And into a purple sunset." I paused and swallowed.

There was no sound, save the distant sweep of the wind, but I could tell they were listening.

"After I lost my eyes," I began again, "I could still see each of their faces clearly in my mind's eye," My voice fell to a whisper. "I still can today."

"Who were these men, m'lady?" Arthur's voice.

"I don't know," I said. "I was hoping you would. Someone told me later that they were knights."

"Knights?" One of the voices exclaimed, and I could tell his owner was swiveling his head.

"Yes. Anyway, they are all I can see clearly anymore. Everything else is obscured."

"Where did you perchance see these knights?" Arthur sounded interested.

I sighed. "It was a ways to the north of our village. Cadfael and I rode far that day. I guess we were trying to escape…everything. And then we saw the riders. Cadfael gave them a peace sign and somehow they must've known it for they did not stop when they passed us."

I stopped abruptly, ashamed to realize I was speaking my thoughts. As they were. But I had one thing more that had to be said. "He called them something—some strange name, but I've forgotten what it was."

"Sarmatian?" Gawain asked, his voice low.

"Yes—that's it," I said, my voice rising with excitement despite myself. "Do you know them?"

There was a silence, then one of them said, "We ARE them."

"What?" I nearly fell off Niwliog in my surprise.

"We are they my lady. The same as you saw on that day."

I shook my head. "This cannot be true."

"But it is," Arthur insisted. "I thought I had seen your face somewhere."

"Now he doesn't have to THINK anymore, because she has done it for him," another knight remarked, making everyone laugh.

I felt myself warming to these men despite my initial trepidations. Especially now that I could see them. Persay.

"But," I said, my voice low and trembly, "I can't fit the voices with the names and the names with the faces. So you will have to help me here."

"I'm the tall, dark, handsome one," One of them offered, "Lancelot is my name. And thus runs my voice."

"On and on and on," Gawain added, provoking laughter once more.

"Let me see…" I thought a minute. "I remember two or three, actually, 'dark ones', but one of them had a light gray horse, and the other had twin swords."

"And the third?"

"Braids. I believe he had braids."

"You recall the details quite vividly," Arthur remarked. "As for appearances, I will answer that for you. My friend with the two swords is Lancelot."

I knew Lancelot lifted his eyebrows. I could just feel it. He repeated, "Lancelot."

"The youngest on the gray is Galahad."

"I'm Galahad," Galahad offered, remembering to let me get a handle on his voice.

"And the one in braids is Tristan. He usually says nothing, so you won't have any trouble discerning him."

I chuckled and sure enough, Tristan said nothing.

"The one with the very long—blonde—hair is Gawain."

I paused for a minute. "I think I know who you are, but let me hear your voice."

"I'm Gawain," he said quietly.

"And Bors is the big one."

"Rus," Bors offered. I was glad he didn't shout it. He had a very big voice.

"Dragonet is the other quiet one." Arthur continued.

"Pleased to meet you, m'lady." Dragonet said. He bowed his head.

"And you are Arthur." I said, triumphantly, knowing he had finished the list. "The determined leader on his white steed."

"I think so, yes." Arthur said. He was smiling.

I lapsed into silence, suddenly appalled at my behavior. I had shut myself away for the last year—what was I doing now? Laughing? Joking? Being friendly with a group of strangers?

But they weren't just strangers.

They were the Sarmatian Knights.


	5. Chapter 5

**gwenn0: Thanks so much! I'm glad you like my plot...this story is actually almost over, but Skye's tale and developing relationship with the knights will continue in my other story, Where There Is Gold.**

**KnightMaiden: That is true...tween you and me,I was thinking bouthow things might turn out later onand I started seeing Tristan, Lancelot and Galahad asliking Skye, and Arthur and Dragonet liking Arian and Gawain and Bors liking Vanora who I was actually thinking about bringing in to play a bigger role...but I dunno, though, cause in the movie it's pretty much grounded that she's Bors' love. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

It was growing darker. I could feel it. The knights' bantering dwindled and gradually died altogether, replaced by a cold silence that creeped me out.

"What is wrong?"

"We are being followed." Galahad's voice.

I refused to tense up. "By whom?"

"Woads."

"Oh."

"Have you had much contact with these vile creatures, m'lady?" Gawain asked.

"Some. They came to our village on occasion, but only when I was very young. Their visits ceased as I grew older."

"I wonder why…"

"They have been trying to convince my people to fight with them for some time." This I knew. "But I did not know that my father had actually refused them. Politics are generally something not discussed with women."

"Where is your mother?"

"She is dead," I said, without emotion. "She died of disease when I was two months old."

"But…"

"Yes, I have a brother. A half brother. My father married again."

"I see."

"Can you not hear them?"

I listened. "Yes."

It was the last word I managed to get in before there was a rustle in the underbrush beside our horses. I heard one of the knights grunt before he fell to the ground. The horse beside Niwliog started and bumped her and Niwliog snapped at him. There were sounds of a struggled behind me and I realized that one of the knights had been jumped by a woad. But I had no time to consider—with a scream of outrage, woads poured out of the woods around us.

I kicked Niwliog. Reaching for my bow, I strung it hastily and found an arrow. I turned, directing it toward the nearest noise—which happened to sound like a warrior running toward me. I released the arrow and I heard the distinct thud of it hitting my target before the body crashed at my feet. I turned my head, listening again, and something whooshed past my ear.

I ducked my head and grabbed for the front of the saddle as Niwliog began to buck. I realized a woad must have jumped on behind me and I grabbed frantically for my knives. Placing the smallest one in my teeth, blade outward, I drew the others as I swung around.

There was the neat "shweet" as the knife in my mouth cut flesh, and a Niwliog bolted forward as the woad fell backwards off her rump. Apparently, he'd been too close and my blade had slashed his face—or his throat—as I whirled upon him.

The clatter of battle behind me met my ears and pressing my heel into Niwliog's flank, I directed the mare into a run back toward the melee. Perhaps I was crazy. Perhaps I was irritated by Gawain's shout for me to run. At any rate, I shot arrow after arrow at the nearest noise until something hit me from behind. I toppled forward, and hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from my lungs.

Somebody hovered over me and I hit at them with all the strength I could muster. But a hand seized my wrist and forced it back down by my side. A heavily accented voice chided me.

"Stop. First, you don't belong here. In battle. Two, you've almost killed as many knights as you have woads."

I was acutely embarrassed for a moment, then with a flash, I realized I didn't know the voice. With all my might, I rolled over, kicking my assailant off me. I whipped out my knife and threw it.

It must have missed my attacker for after a moment, I was pushed up against my horse.

"Pity you can't see my _lady_," my opponent said through clenched teeth. "_I_ am Tristan."

I stopped struggling. "Really?"

"Really," he said sarcastically.

"Will you let me go now, then?"

He released me and I knew for sure then he wasn't some woad in pretense.

"Wait here."

What was I to say? I stood by Niwliog and waited. Already the clamor was dying down and from the rapid patter of bare feet, I sensed the woads were retreating.

"How many of you did I hit?" I demanded as they rode up.

Gawain laughed. "Not me. Just nicked me is all."

I glared at him.

"Your arrow went way past me," Galahad offered. "But it nearly took Tristan's braid with it!"

I began laughing. "So that is why he's so mad with me."

The others joined in the laughter and I found myself contemplating. I didn't know how I could tell. Heaven's sakes—I couldn't even SEE them! But somehow I knew I had found friends. Friends—in these rough, battle hardened men. But it was true. It was God's truth.

* * *

_Hmmm…I know this is a short chapter. Sorry. :) The next chapter, btw, is actually going to be the last. (Shocking I know—I'm actually going to finish one of these things! Lol. :) But, Skye's story is going to be continued in my other work, Where There is Gold. So please check it out. :) Anyway, thanks to anyone who's been reading this and _please_ review! _

_TP _


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